by Anise Storm
“Stan.”
Stanley leaned just a little closer. “Think about it, Hannah. No one will hire you with a record. I can surround you with the same type of things you’ve been used to with those two playboys, unless you’d rather slum it. “
“Stanley,” Brian said again, walking closer to the two of them.
Finally, Stanley straightened and she felt the need to vomit. “Think about what I said, Miss Brinkley.”
“I have thought about it,” she ground between clenched teeth. “I will pass. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” she said then she stood up. Hannah ignored his murderous expression and walked right past both men toward the bathroom.
Hannah locked the door behind her and moved over to the sink. When she glanced at her reflection, she realized Brian was right. She looked worn down and exhausted, which she was. Turning the cold tap on, she ran her hands under the water and splashed it onto her face.
She would never confess to something so heinous as what she’d been accused of, and she would never become a mistress for Stanley Pritchard or any other man. She hadn’t for Thaddeus Remington, and he was a hundred times the man than Stanley could ever be.
Hoping the men were gone, she waited for a few more minutes then emerged from the bathroom. They had not left the building but were in a conference room. She slipped past the open door and walked back to her desk. It was even more imperative she find a solution to her problem before she ended up behind bars.
Chapter Twenty
Finley slammed the phone down onto its cradle. They’d lost another fucking account, and he was now waiting to hear whether Wetherall Communications had lost to Remington Industries or Tucker International. Both companies had become thorns in his side. Others on the board wanted to hit the panic button, and today’s news would most likely only amplify the pressure they were already putting on him. It was nothing compared to the pressure he’d put on himself.
He raked his hands through his hair, then scrubbed them down his face. Finley wondered whether Alfred had any updates for him. Picking up his cell phone, he scrolled through the contacts and finally found the private investigator. Hitting the Call button, he waited while the phone rang.
“Wetherall, what’s up?” came the voice from the other end. Alfred Jensen was a very highly sought-after PI who was currently in Chicago checking out Tucker International and Hannah Brinkley.
Even now, the thought of her still hurt like hell. How could he have been such a fool where she was concerned? Had he really allowed years of fantasies about her to so severely cloud his judgment that his company and birthright was on a fast decline?
“I was calling to see if there have been any updates? It’s been a few weeks and you’ve provided me with almost nothing else other than telling me what time she arrives and departs work.” Finley heard the frustration come across in his voice.
“I also told you which drawer she keeps her panties and toys in, Wetherall,” he offered until Finley growled.
Many nights he’d lain there in bed, thinking about the woman missing from it. When she’d rushed back to the penthouse to collect her things, Hannah had left some behind and he couldn’t bring himself to throw the items away. Among those was the T-shirt she had worn her last night there. She hadn’t gone into his rooms, and beside the bed had been where he’d found it.
Hannah had put it on after getting out of the shower and had worn it around the penthouse until time for bed the evening before. Even though the smell of her favorite perfume was faint, he could still detect it on the fabric. On nights he was so wound up that he couldn’t sleep, Finley would inhale her scent from the shirt, close his eyes and picture her there while he stroked himself to a climax.
As pathetic an attempt at moving on as that was, Finley wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to completely let her go. He still had her collar, but it gave him a sense of relief that he hadn’t given it to her beforehand. While thoughts of her betrayal had festered inside him, they were nothing compared to the visions he’d had of her in his arch-rival’s arms and bed. It was no wonder she hadn’t told him why she’d left Atlanta or who she’d been involved with there. Had she mentioned Thaddeus Remington, he honestly didn’t know what he would’ve done.
“I told you before to stay the fuck away from her lingerie. I’m not paying you thousands of pounds to be a pervert. Do you have any updates about Tucker International for me, then?”
Alfred sensed his impatience, which was only increasing with each passing second. “Actually, I do on that front. A few days ago, Brian Silverstein and Stanley Pritchard arrived in Chicago—”
“A few days ago I was submitting Wetherall’s bid for the Lincoln account. Bloody hell. I bet that’s why they were there. We were outbid, and I can now guess by whom. Let me give you a call back.”
Hanging up the phone, Finley pulled up his emails and found the one from Lincoln Enterprises. It was a standard rejection letter, and he analyzed the reasoning. This one appeared truly financial in nature. He scrolled through the rest of the inbox. Sure enough, an email from one of the board members was there. Joseph Perry was up in arms over losing another account to none other than Tucker International.
His first thought was she’d fucked him over again, but could that really be the case? Finley racked his brain, trying to think about when he’d first showed interest in the failed startup company. The more he thought back, the more he realized Wetherall Communications hadn’t even seriously considered Lincoln Enterprises until after Hannah was gone.
After she’d left, Finley had thrown himself into his work. The driving focus in his life had been getting Wetherall Communications back on a solid footing. There was no way she could have guessed his company would have ever had an interest in them to begin with. If that’s the case, is it possible that maybe she is more innocent than I initially thought?
Finley erased the thought from his head. No, that was the honest truth. She might have been innocent where Lincoln was concerned but not where Anderson was. And sure as fuck not about Thaddeus Remington.
The thought of his rival had him cursing under his breath. From all appearances, it looked like the man had moved on from Hannah but, then again, Finley understood how the media could jump onto a story and run with it. After all, it had happened many times to him over the years. He sometimes wondered whether a few of them had played a part in his baby girl leaving London the first time.
He could still remember the paparazzi following his every move and the slew of women’s beds they had him crawling from. He certainly hadn’t lived like a monk, but he also hadn’t had a harem of women like some of those rags proclaimed. The reputation was a hard one to live down and, once he’d realized Hannah was gone for good back then, he’d actually succumbed to it for a while.
The revolving door of women in and out of his bed and various hotel rooms had eventually taken its toll on him. Being a Dominant, he was looking for something more meaningful. He still remembered the day he’d brought Layla back to the penthouse and to his playroom.
He had met the gorgeous brunette at a local club that catered to those in their lifestyle. Finley had thought she would enjoy the privacy his place offered over the club, but she had ended up using her safe word. She had been frightened by his intensity and, to this day, was the only one to have used one with him. It was then he’d realized not showing Hannah that side of him had been for the best. It hadn’t been until he’d seen her in the playroom one night after work that he’d discovered how wrong he’d been. He’d almost expected her to pack up and leave, but she hadn’t.
Hannah had been the perfect submissive for him. She had never been frightened by anything he had done, and she’d let him have his way with her. That level of trust had never been given to him by anyone and for it to have been from her was like a dream come true. At the time, it had only reinforced his own belief that the two of them were meant to be together. Where did everything go wrong?
His phone rang again, and he picked it up
. “Wetherall.”
“Hey, man, it’s me, Alfred.” Finley had no idea what the man had to add from just a few minutes ago but he assumed it was something important. “I think you should get to Chicago soon. I’ve found a few others following her, also. I’m not sure what this whore got herself into, but—”
“Don’t you ever call her that,” Finley snarled. Hannah may have been many things, but a whore was not one of them, regardless of the fact she had done God knows what with Thaddeus Remington in New York City. “And who is following her?”
“I recognize one from the field. He’s a private investigator, too, but the other two following her? They’re not. In fact, I tried to run their names through the database and one had a criminal record a mile long. He’s a felon who narrowly escaped an attempted murder charge a few years back,” he explained.
Fear crept up inside Finley. “Why would they be following her?” The answer was obvious, but maybe he just needed someone else to confirm what he was now starting to suspect.
“It could be for many reasons. Perhaps the most obvious of all is they want to shut her up. I heard the feds are getting closer to charging her with tampering. After all, they have interrogated her often in the last few weeks.”
If she was innocent, like Finley now hoped she was, then Hannah was in grave danger. While Alfred talked about the investigation, Finley sent a text to his pilot, letting him know the corporate jet needed to be fueled and ready to go as soon as possible. Once he got to the airport and the flight plan was drawn up, he’d be ready to leave.
“I’m on my way tonight,” he told the investigator before hanging up. Then he said a silent prayer he would make it to her in time.
Chapter Twenty-One
Thaddeus had gotten a call from his own investigator about some thugs following Hannah, and he’d decided it at least warranted a visit to Chicago to check on the investigation and also to see about her. It also had given him a chance to escape the clutches of Brenda Cole, the latest in a long line of women Arthur had sent to seduce him. He’d dated a few of the women, but there was nothing between them.
Brenda was the only one who he could even tolerate. If he rejected all the women, the old man would try to push others off onto him. The supermodel was more interested in her photographs being splashed all over various publications, and being tied to someone of his reputation was a sure-fire way to accomplish it. There were mutual benefits to parading around with her. It got his grandfather off his back, which was the biggest upside to the entire thing.
He hadn’t had sex with the blonde, despite what the media thought. There was nothing about Brenda that ignited the spark inside him a certain brunette did. The passion he experienced with Hannah was definitely lacking with her. Even now, the visions of his former secretary got him rock hard. It didn’t matter that she had slept with the enemy or even had potentially tried to help others take down Remington Industries. All he felt when looking at Hannah was the undeniable need to have her anywhere and everywhere he could.
Maybe I am pathetic, like my grandfather thinks. Or maybe I’m still in love. The latter seemed to be the more truthful observation of the two. Despite her actions, he still thought about her day and night, wishing he could rewind the hands of time and wake back up in October, to the time he’d had her in his arms and in his bed. The mistakes he’d made with Carolina Winston and not telling Hannah how he felt sooner could be undone. Unfortunately, it was now February and so much time had passed. Things had just gotten more complicated.
Deciding to go upstairs and get some fresh air, Thaddeus left the room and headed toward the hotel rooftop. The skyline in Chicago was much different from the one in Atlanta, but it still managed to bring him the same sort of peace. He found the door that would lead him outside, but he realized there was a warning on a sign taped to it, letting everyone know the lock was messed up.
He was about to go back downstairs until he saw a thin sliver of wood he could place between the door and the frame so he wouldn’t get locked out. Picking it up, he tested it first and it was just big enough to stop it from completely closing.
He stepped onto the roof and immediately shivered at the cold breeze. He would take Atlanta winters over this shit any day. Thankfully, hell was only freezing over if the temperatures were any indication, and there was no snow falling to compound it. While the white stuff was pretty to watch, it wasn’t so great to be outside in. Walking over to one of the outdoor chairs, he took a seat and exhaled sharply.
“What a fucking year this is turning out to be,” he said.
“I completely agree,” came the British voice he’d recognize anywhere.
Spinning around, Thaddeus saw Finley Wetherall standing there. He had been so lost in his own thoughts he hadn’t even heard the man enter the rooftop patio. “What the fuck do you want, Wetherall?”
Finley smirked. “It appears the same thing you did. I wanted to come up here to think.”
Thaddeus couldn’t relax around the man who he’d rather push over the edge of the building. Standing, he looked past the man to the door. The sliver of light he expected to see was gone. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath. Ignoring Finley’s question, he stormed past him to the door and, sure enough, the fucking asshole hadn’t kept it propped open.
Thaddeus was not only stuck here on the roof in the dead of a Chicago winter, but he was stuck out here with the one man on the entire planet he despised above all others. What a fucking night, for sure.
“Do us both a favor and get lost,” Finley told Thaddeus after he walked back over and took a seat.
This time, Thaddeus smirked. “If you think either of us can go anywhere right now, you’re wrong. Did you miss the fucking sign on the door?”
“What sign?” Finley asked, then glanced toward the place in question.
“There’s an issue with the doorknob and now we’re stuck here,” he said, his voice sounding much more pleased than he actually was. This was the worst case scenario for him.
“Bloody hell,” Finley said, getting up to see if Thaddeus was lying. He returned, glaring. “Just fucking great.”
The night had gone downhill rather quickly. Thaddeus looked back over the skyline, but he couldn’t erase the scowl from his face. Finley must have returned to the door because Thaddeus heard the sound of banging. It would do him no good. Who in the hell would really want to go outside in these temperatures? He called the front desk. They said they’d send someone up to let them out soon. Apparently they were busy with check-ins.
Finley returned and took a seat beside him. “So what in the hell are you here to steal from me this time, Remington?”
He huffed before answering. “I could ask the same about you, Wetherall. You’ve already stolen millions of dollars, my girl and now you’re about to steal my sanity, too.”
“Y-Your girl?” Finley sputtered incredulously. “She was mine before she ever met you, asshole.”
Thaddeus didn’t know how long Hannah had actually known Finley, but he assumed from the venom the other man had spewed in the pub that it had been a while. It didn’t mean a damn thing to him, though, because even if they had known each other, it hadn’t stopped Hannah from moving back to Texas and getting mixed up with her ex-fiancé.
He remembered her telling him about her past one night over Chinese food. It was actually the night he’d started to see her as more than simply a conquest. Hannah had allowed him a glimpse into her life, sharing her hopes, dreams and fears with him. For the first time, she hadn’t just been the hot secretary he’d wanted to fuck repeatedly then toss aside. She had been the submissive he’d wanted to protect…to cherish…and to give the world.
“If you had any claim on her, she wouldn’t have left your sorry ass back then.” Thaddeus grinned at the growl from the other man. “I should probably thank you for it, however, because she met yet another loser, and this one eventually led her to me.”
This time, Finley quickly responded, “And so much good th
at did her. She couldn’t wait to get the fuck away from you, which is why she called me. Even in New York City, she left you again.”
Thaddeus remembered the scene in the elevator. He’d had no idea why she would leave him standing there again. He hadn’t been able to understand why, but now he did. He’d never admit it to anyone, especially the asshole he was stuck outside with, but she had left him for Finley.
“Fuck, I wish I had a damn drink,” he said. Maybe a few shots of whiskey, taken straight, would help ease his ever-growing bitter temperament. Since he couldn’t, he might as well make sure Wetherall was miserable too. “So, what the hell brings you to Chicago if it isn’t to bust my chops?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Finley chuckled at that question. His expression soon soured, though, after he remembered his reason for actually flying here. He sure didn’t plan to tell Thaddeus so the asshole could swoop in and play the knight in shining armor. But, then again, Alfred had been able to determine that Remington had also hired an investigator to tail Hannah.
“I’m here to take care of a personal issue,” he said, knowing it wasn’t a complete lie. He had to warn Hannah about the danger lurking nearby, even though he was certain she’d be spitting mad to learn he had someone investigating her. Finley’s one hope was she would be grateful enough to overlook that little tidbit. “What about you? Are you here with the new girlfriend?”
Thaddeus scowled but didn’t immediately answer. Finley glanced over at him and could see the disgusted expression on his face. Hell, he isn’t any happier about being here. He was about to say something else when Thaddeus spoke first. “Brenda’s not my girlfriend.”
